Under Pressure

by Zoë Normandie

  But he’d just reappeared.

  Why? What did he want? As the street darkened, she ran one hand up her face in embarrassment. She was being manipulated by him, yet again. She wasn’t quite sure how exactly, or why—but it was clear he had an endgame.

  And that was when she decided to pull her car over onto the side of the road in a small shoulder in the rocky hill. Her car idling, she reached over to her bag and pulled the glove out, feeling the stiff fabric through the plastic evidence bag. She could throw it out of the window and be done with it. Or she could take it back to Delta and confront him, tell him off once and for all. What should I do? Biting her lip, she had to decide.

  It took a minute or two, but emotion overcame her. She pulled a big U-turn and started heading back down the hill, driving away from her neighborhood. She grabbed her phone and scrolled through her contacts to find Delta’s old cell number. Does he still use that one? One hand on the wheel, one hand hitting the button to call Delta’s cell, she spun around a hairpin corner.

  But just at the same time, another car rocketed up the turn—straight toward her, like it wasn’t going to turn at all. Her eyes widened and she screamed, whipping the steering wheel all the way to the right and accelerating to avoid collision. The other car’s tires squealed as it missed her only slightly, but it was too late. Her car had already driven into brush on the hilly side of the road. She smacked her head against the steering wheel as she impacted against a tree, sending a ripping pain through her forehead and into her skull.

  Damn, she thought, as things got fuzzy. Blood trickled down her forehead and her view of the blinking lights of LA down the slope grew blurrier.

  The other car peeled off, and her heart beat faster and faster, realizing that all that was saving her and her car from plummeting straight down the hillside was a sturdy little cactus tree that appeared to be partially lodged under the front of her car. Snapping noises permeated the air, sending a clear message. It wasn’t going to hold long, and she was going to crash down the steep, unforgiving hill into the rocks below

  “Shit!” she shrieked, jamming her door open to jump out.

  But the injury to her head was slowing her movements. She was fumbling, her aim inaccurate. Anything she’d learned in the police academy about vehicle extraction got lost in her aching skull, her roadside instincts dulled by too many years behind the microscope. Her car slowly crunched over the cactus, not offering apology as it consumed it. As she was edging down the fulcrum of the hillside, death calling for her, tears streamed down her cheek as she fumbled desperately at the door, searching for escape. Her distorted vision rendered her helpless, somewhere between lucid and not. The sound of a baby crying in the distance rang through her ears.

  Then her car stopped edging forward.

  And began to reverse.

  Nausea darted through her throat as the ground shifted below her. Suddenly, the horizon was not where she thought it was. The LA lights were no longer in direct sight, but farther and farther away, as if her car was moving back up the hillside. Sitting cockeyed in the driver’s seat, she was going to throw up. Either she was already dying or her car was magically moving back and over the fulcrum of its own accord. Funny, I don’t believe in magic.

  Her car came to a full stop back on the roadside, unmoving. Her driver’s door then whipped open, and a masculine form with a black mask covering his face and a black hood up reached in to grab her. Like she weighed nothing, he heaved her out, then threw her over his shoulder.

  Then she blacked out.

  When she woke up, after God knew how long, she was still in the arms of the masked man, being carried somewhere. In the darkness, she had no idea where she was. All she knew was that she wasn’t far from the crash, and he was moving her to a second location.

  “No,” she slurred, her head still disconnected and pounding. Never go to the second location. Survival words flashed through her mind, but she had little recourse to offer.

  Her captor slid her off his back and tried to stand her up against the side of what felt like a pickup truck, taking her shoulders in his hands to stabilize her. Still incapacitated and worsening, she tried to step away from him but lost her balance and collapsed into his warm, strong body. Holding her close, he grumbled words, though she couldn’t make out what. The sudden change to being back on her feet seemed to drive all the blood out of her head. As if realizing that, he quickly grabbed the back of her neck and held on to her while she fell, passing out again. The last thing she remembered was trying to catch her breath against his masculine, hard chest, inhaling a woody scent that was too good to be true.

  Kendra didn’t know how long she was out or what happened to her, but when she woke up, she was in the darkness of her small backyard in the Malibu hills, seated comfortably upright on her favorite chaise.

  She wasn’t alone.

  Slowly blinking open her eyes, she sensed someone holding a wet cloth on her forehead. Through the dim moonlight, she could see a concerned masculine gaze looking down on her behind a black mask. Her captor. So, he hadn’t killed her…yet. Her back stiffening and alarmed as all hell, she tried to rise—but he pushed her back down, firm and commanding.

  “Keep your head down,” he ordered, keeping his voice low. “The bleeding has stopped, but you still need to chill.” He touched above her brow with the cloth, retracting it to assess the amount of blood it had collected.

  She felt deep soreness as she raised her eyebrows, trying to get a better look. Her head pounding, she struggled to rub two thoughts together.

  “Who are you?” she coughed out. “How did you find me?”

  He didn’t answer as he held her wrist with his fingers, counting the beats in her pulse. He ran his rough hands up her arm, likely inspecting for further damage. The way he moved them over her body, it was like he knew his way. She clenched her teeth as he ran his hand up her neck to her face, where the bruising was sure to be starting. She had no ability to push back, since she was still recovering from the blow on the steering wheel. Had she been concussed?

  Perched on the edge of the chaise, studying her intently, his voice, his eyes—there was something too familiar to deny, but she didn’t want to concede it. She sucked in breath, tension tightening its hold on her throat. When was she going to wake up?

  “Why are you doing this?” she demanded in a weak voice.

  He locked his widened eyes with hers, exposing just how livid he was. Staring down into her aching face, he shot back with a question. “Why the hell would someone do this to you?”

  “I don’t know. It was an accident. Someone was speeding—” she started to rationalize.

  “No,” the masked man revised, very matter-of-factly. “Someone tried to force you off the road. This wasn’t an accident.”

  She sucked in breath as he touched a sore spot on her head, wincing beneath his rough, thick fingers. Drive me off the road? It was intentional? That didn’t make sense.

  But…where did he come from? She leaned back, her senses still hurting. She batted his hand away—or tried to—but he caught it, sending her a dogged look. He was in control, not her. And that was a reminder she didn’t need.

  “You need more help than I can give,” he stated, removing the cloth from her forehead. “I’m taking you to a hospital.”

  “I’m fine.” She struggled to push herself up into a sitting position, trying to prove it.

  “You’re not fine”—his gaze changed as he watched her sit up, never breaking eye contact—“and I’m not a doctor.”

  “Then, who are you?”

  Now sitting before him, she could see how much longer his limbs were. He was tall, very tall. Strapping, even. As she leaned forward, blinking him into focus, she could sense him breathing in harder the closer she got. Something about his scent was familiar and mouth-watering. His reaction to her was telling, and the air between them grew heavy.

  A little punch drunk, she reached over, delicately trailing her hands up his neck. S
eeming to allow her, he ran his hands down her forearms, supporting her, embracing her, as she inched forward, like she was touching an animal in the wild for the first time. She kept pushing her luck as he seemed to allow her to run her fingers over his black mask and its soft, stretchy fabric. She slowly pulled it up, inch by inch, revealing a strong jaw that needed a shave followed by a beautiful, wide mouth. She’d never forget that mouth—how it tasted and what it had once done to her.

  “Why are you here?” she whispered, meaning something much more complex.

  There was a pause between them before he replied.

  “You don’t know?”

  Her heart beat faster and faster, and she couldn’t stop herself. There were things she needed to know, answers that he owed her. As she pulled the mask up, revealing the face of her protector, she traced a long scar on his cheek that shot upward underneath the mask toward his brow—one that she’d always wanted to understand, but that he would never explain. Drawing in breath as she touched it, he retracted, leaving her hand hovering in thin air. Her body involuntarily tensed in response, as if waking up, and suddenly, the dynamic shifted.

  Now that there was a clear separation between them, he watched her as she came to her senses and realized that she’d known all along exactly who he was. It was just that…she hadn’t wanted to believe it. He wasn’t supposed to be her bodyguard. He was the enemy.

  “He must have been following you,” Delta pushed on, steering the conversation back to where he wanted it. “I don’t know if he’s trying to scare you or kill you, but this is what—”

  “No,” Kendra cut him off, crossing her arms tightly. “It was an accident. There’s no way Hunter would have done this. He’s on my side.”

  “Like hell.”

  “At least he’s been here. Where have you been?”

  She bit her lip after the words came out. He studied her in response, letting the conversation lapse, refusing to acknowledge her question. His mouth twisted in a way she hadn’t seen before—wild anger clearly lingering just one level under the surface.

  “You can’t stay here”—he nodded to her house—“not without protection.”

  “Back to this, are we?”

  “I’m warning you. Don’t take it lightly,” he growled at her, his frustration apparently mounting. “I’ve seen enough.”

  “And why should I trust you?” she pushed back, unwilling to yield. “Why should I trust you over him?”

  Delta broke, seizing her wrists and yanking her hard into his body. His voice deepened, dark and intimidating, as he glared at her. “You can and you will trust me.”

  “Give me one good reason to,” she snapped.

  “I knew I was going to regret this.”

  Abruptly dropping his head, he took her mouth his own, his kiss as rough as it was unapologetic.

  Chapter Five

  Delta held the back of Kendra’s head as he consumed her, relishing in the sweetness of her lips. He shouldn’t, but he couldn’t not. Her feminine, fuck-me pout felt like it belonged with his, and he didn’t hesitate to command the kiss to his liking. Her eyes were hazy, the needy sigh escaping her mouth only encouraging him. Damn, he’d felt her surrender to him like that before—and he wanted it again and again. She was the obsession he’d tried to excise.

  A hot rush of pure desire ripped up his chest as he dropped his hand from the back of her head. He toyed with her tongue, remembering what it felt like to kiss her. He traced her curves, holding her against him, needing more.

  As he deepened the kiss, things he tried to forget crashed to the front of his thoughts—memories he’d pushed away. He replayed that one night last year when her body had been under his as he’d fucked her to within an inch of her life, drawing every goddamn orgasm possible out of her. Now his cock hardened as he held her tight once again. He grinned, never letting up, seizing a moment they would likely both regret. And that was when it hit him. It was all a dream, turning fast into a nightmare.

  He didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to be back. He didn’t want any of it.

  But he had to be.

  He retreated slightly, but the way she moaned his name onto his lips again drew him back in. He allowed himself one last chance to taste her, taste the ‘one that got away’. Feeling her tight waist matched by soft hips, he needed to squeeze her harder and harder until he made her scream. He knew he should stop before he lost it and he did just that.

  “Please,” she pleaded, just as he liked. “Please… Matteo.”

  Then he realized she was pushing him away. And using his Christian name was a sure-fire way to bring him to his senses. He gazed into her eyes and his assessment wasn’t good. She was still as pissed off as she’d ever been. In fact, it was worse. He’d stepped over the line.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Kendra gasped, clearly at a loss. She blinked her big, blue eyes rapidly at him, likely in shock.

  His mouth dropped as she pushed herself back on the chaise, clearly trying to process what he’d done. It was goddamn strange, but he couldn’t ignore how something in him felt stretched as she moved away and formed a chasm between them. He ran his gaze up and down the raw, natural beauty he’d thought about every day for a fucking year, wondering what the hell had just come over him and where he’d lost control.

  “Well?” Kendra pressed, folding her arms protectively once again as she sat in front of him, pert and stubborn.

  “Well, what?”

  She narrowed her eyes on him, waiting for his response. It was clear that she wasn’t willing to play games anymore. He bit into the inside his cheek, self-punishing. How the fuck had he ever landed her? She was so damn analytical, so damn smart.

  And I’m just a fucking idiot.

  “I didn’t plan that.” Delta straightened his back, compartmentalizing.

  “Yeah, sure—I wasn’t born yesterday. How the fuck do I know it wasn’t you who ran me off the road, just to have a chance to play the hero role?”

  Fury flushed to the tip of his tongue, but he held back. He flexed every muscle in his body, controlling his response, and chose to pivot the conversation. He threw out the olive branch, deciding he had to do something.

  “Let’s cut a deal.”

  Taken aback, she darted her eyes back and forth across his face, a wrinkle appearing between her brows.

  “A deal?”

  “I’ll watch out for you until we can figure out what the hell happened tonight with the car,” he offered, knowing full well who was going to benefit more from the situation.

  “And in return?” she reacted, searching him for the second shoe to drop. “You’ll stay the fuck away?”

  Christ. That was a damn good question. He clenched his teeth so hard they hurt, reeling in her contempt. He tried to answer in the affirmative that she’d requested but couldn’t. Staying away was no longer an option, at least for the short term.

  With his silence, she then tilted her head, adding, “So, what do you want in return?”

  “To teach you a lesson.”

  “Always so selfless, Matteo. A veritable knight in shining armor.”

  Dismissing him, she snapped her eyebrows together disapprovingly. She then simply shook her head, obviously bitter as hell. His muscles involuntarily flinched with her slight, driving a blaze of pain up his scar.

  Without thinking, he grabbed her arm, yanking her into him and threatening to kiss her again if she kept it up. He welcomed the seeming fear spreading across her face—the fear that he’d do something neither of them could stop. It was a barbaric tactic, but the way she made him feel caused him to do those kinds of things.

  It drove him wild to know that he could turn her on just as much as she could him. When he gripped her harder, she blinked rapidly, her eyelashes flickering and biting her lip. He let himself breathe her in. She was so much more than she ever gave herself credit for, he thought, as he absorbed every last freckle on her sun-kissed nose.

  “You can’t do this alo
ne,” he concluded. “You know you can’t.”

  “I can”—she pulled back, snarling—“and you’d better get it straight. I don’t want your lecture. I don’t like you. And you are not welcome in my life.”

  She made to stand, wobbling and struggling to catch her balance on her feet. He lunged, reflexively reaching, gripping her waist to prevent her from falling face first onto her patio stones.

  “For fuck’s sake, Kendra.”

  Of course, she irritably pushed him away, a fraught cry escaping her throat. She was clearly desperate to be on her own two feet—to be alone. He heard that as he watched her stumble toward her back door. His mind running at a thousand miles per second, he accepted that he couldn’t let her handle things alone. He’d seen enough in one day to trigger deep concern.

  He crept farther back in her yard, closer to the fence, watching her sway in the darkness. Hurt. Vulnerable. She exhaled in frustration in the distance, saying nothing, but meaning everything. He felt it too. He’d shown up with one plan and was leaving with another.

  One final time, she turned her face back to him, watching his shadow in the darkness. Putting his mask and hood back on, he listened to her final request.

  “Stay away from me.”

  A few ungentlemanly thoughts crossed his mind as he watched her disappear. It wasn’t like him to allow things to end like this—not on his terms—but he had to be somewhere else. Readying himself to hop her fence, he pulled the second glove out of his pocket, matching it up with the first—the second most important thing he’d recovered from Kendra’s car.

  Chapter Six

  Out of the Malibu hills and back into the LA basin, it didn’t take Delta more than an hour before he found himself at his target destination. Willow Avenue had found itself home to a number of commercial and industrial spaces, including a non-descript five-story red brick building on the edge of the city. It was a building that wanted no attention and advertised nothing.

  Delta considered himself an open-minded kind of guy, but there was one thing he didn’t do—visitor’s passes. And that was partially why he found himself taking the shadowy side entrance to the building he’d once visited legitimately in the sober light of day. Plus, he didn’t doubt building security would have questions about why he was carrying a pistol and a bunch of gear that could only be described as break-in tools.